


All In

by fictionalaspect



Category: Bandom
Genre: Barebacking, Bondage, Crossdressing, Facials, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Podfic Available, Rimming, Spanking, Watersports, sex in public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-12
Updated: 2010-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Last person still in wins the pot," Jon says. He finishes with a flourish, folding up his two pieces of paper and dropping them on top of the folded twenty at the bottom of their empty weed jar.</p>
<p>Brendon pushes his hair out of his eyes, bites his lip, and stares at his two scraps of paper. He writes the first two things that come to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In

**Author's Note:**

> Cabin-era GSF. I originally started writing this to troll boweryd and then it...grew. Please don't take this one very seriously. misswonderheart slayed all of my commas, and for that I am grateful.
> 
> Update: There are now two wonderful podficced versions of this story available! Click [here](http://greedy-dancer.livejournal.com/636619.html) for greedy_dancer's version, and click [here](http://dapatty.dreamwidth.org/9945.html) for dapatty's version :D

Brendon knows they've been playing too much poker when his first reaction to Jon throwing a five-dollar bill down on the table is to think _aww, shit_.

If they're betting on this he's all in, like he always is.

"Ante up, fuckers," Jon says, smirking, and Ryan's tearing out pages of his notebook and handing them around. Brendon looks into his wallet and frowns. He only has a twenty.

"I don't have change," he says, and Spencer leans over and snags the twenty out of his wallet, handing Brendon the three fives crumpled on the table. "Now you do," Spencer says, and clicks his pen with authority.

"Why are we doing this, again?" Brendon says, and Ryan frowns at him from where he's scribbling away.

"I'm trying to spice up my sex life," Ryan says mildly.

Brendon says "It's pretty spicy already," at the same time that Spencer rolls his eyes and says "Oh, fuck you, is that what this is about? I'm taking away your Cosmo subscription."

"I don't have a subscription," Ryan shoots back. "One time, Spencer, that was _one time_."

"That's not what this is about," Brendon says. "I don't believe you. You just told me this was a competition."

"Last person still in wins the pot," Jon says. He finishes with a flourish, folding up his two pieces of paper and dropping them on top of the folded twenty at the bottom of their empty weed jar.

(Brendon would bet money that somewhere on that piece of paper, there's a smiley face. Maybe he'll see if Spencer will take a side-pot on it, just so he can be assured of some extra cash at the end. He really doubts he's going to win.)

Brendon pushes his hair out of his eyes, bites his lip, and stares at his two scraps of paper. He writes the first two things that come to mind.

"How do we know who goes first?" he asks, when the jar is filled and sitting on the table. It's slightly intimidating, despite the fact that it's a jar full of paper, and thus not intimidating at all.

Spencer shakes the dice at him.

Brendon rolls a six.

"Shit," Brendon says.

"What?" Ryan says. "You're supposed to be excited. You get to pick first."

"That's a lot of pressure," Brendon says. "Wait, wait, oh god, none of you own a bear suit, right? Right?"

\---

Brendon makes the mistake of picking first thing in the morning, before he's had his coffee, before he loses his nerve. He pops the top off the container and shoves his five dollars in, and then grabs the first scrap of paper he can reach.

It's a mistake because he's holding his mug of coffee in one hand, preparing to take a sip, when he unfolds the paper. Brendon then proceeds to give himself a coughing fit, because half of that shit just went up his nose.

It says, _I want to fuck you without a condom_, in Ryan's scrawly handwriting. Brendon feels his stomach do that weird loop-de-loop thing where he's kind of nervous and kind of excited and kind of--Fuck. Kind of just walked right into Ryan, actually. Ryan blinks at him through his hair and Brendon crumples the piece of paper in his fist before Ryan can see it.

"Morning?" Ryan says, raising an eyebrow, like he's not actually sure.

"Yes," Brendon says. "It is morning, yes, absolutely," and hides out in his room for a while until he's confident he can interact with Ryan like a normal human being.

\---

It's not that Brendon's nervous about Ryan, about him-and-Ryan. When Jon had joined the band he'd pointed out that it was all very well and good that they liked to fuck each other but in his great and ancient wisdom--

("Oh fuck you," Ryan said, "You're like, a year older than us, seriously.")

\--it was probably worth it to make sure they weren't just spreading something around which would eventually cause all of their dicks to fall off.

They weren't, so it's fine, but they use condoms out of habit.

It's that Brendon's never--yeah.

He's never, and Ryan's, uh, Ryan.

So.

Brendon knows he should be grateful. He suspects this is something Ryan actually wants, as opposed to something he wrote down just to knock the rest of them out of the game.

He trusts anyone in his band no farther than he can throw them; which is to say, not very far.

\---

Brendon says, "Um, okay, so--"

"Hang on," Ryan mumbles. He's got his guitar out, and he's strumming the same chords he's been strumming for the last two hours, and Brendon is seriously starting to lose patience. He's pretty sure if he had picked one of Jon or Spencer's requests, they would have just gotten it over with right after breakfast, nice and civilized. He's been following Ryan around all damn day. Brendon's starting to feel a little insulted.

"No," Brendon says, and grips the fret of Ryan's guitar, holding all of the strings down. Ryan frowns, and peers up at him, like he just noticed Brendon was there.

"We have half an hour," Brendon says, very seriously. "It is 11:30 PM. I am not losing on the first fucking day. No way. Put the guitar down and fuck me."

"Jesus, fine," Ryan says. "We're supposed to be working out here, you know."

"Did I come up with this idea?" Brendon says. "No. No, I did not. You're the one who--"

"Oh my god, stop complaining and take your pants off," Ryan says, tugging his shirt over his head.

"Here?" Brendon says, and stares around the living room of the cabin. It's not that they haven't all fucked in here before--there is something to be said for multiple couches--but it's kind of weird when it's just him and Ryan.

"Independent confirmation," Ryan says. "I'm protecting our assets, Brendon. This way they can't say we backed out."

"Yeah, I bet you are," Brendon says, but he wiggles out of his pants anyway.

"Okay," Ryan says, once they're both naked. It's kind of cold on the couch, and Brendon tugs the blanket off the back and wraps it around his shoulders. "Show me your slip, so I know you're not lying."

"Why would I be lying?" Brendon says.

"Did you see what Jon wrote?" Ryan says. "I might lie to get out of that one."

"That's not reassuring," Brendon says. He digs in the front pocket of his jeans until he finds the crumpled slip of paper, and then hands it over to Ryan. Ryan scans it for a second, and then tosses it away. "Awesome," he says, digging in the couch cushions. "Come here."

"Aren't you supposed to be all romantic and shit?" Brendon says. "What happened to, _hey, I love you guys so much, you complete the world, you're the moon to my sun?_ Now it's just like, no, no, come here, let me fuck you in the ass so we don't lose all of our money to our bandmates."

"I was stoned," Ryan says. "Stop being so pissy. I'll make it worth your while."

"I'm not being pissy," Brendon says, and then jerks a little when Ryan's hands touch him. "Jesus, your hands are cold."

Ryan smirks. "They won't be for long."

\---

Halfway through, Brendon decides he's not so hot on this whole 'independent confirmation' thing.

"Fuck," Brendon moans out, "Jesus _Christ_, Ryan, it's so--"

"Yeah," Ryan pants out, and sinks his teeth into Brendon's shoulder. Brendon jerks, and the movement causes Ryan to slip in even deeper. Ryan circles his hips, panting, and then he pulls back. He slams his hips hard into Brendon's. "You feel so fucking good," Ryan groans. "Brendon, fuck--"

"This is awesome," Spencer says, and eats another Dorito.

\---

Brendon checks the jar first thing in the morning. It's sitting on the kitchen counter, on top of a piece of paper with all of their names on it. Brendon puts a check mark in his and Ryan's respective columns and thinks _hah, motherfuckers!_ Then he shoves his five dollars in the for day, and checks to make sure that everyone else ponied up for yesterday.

Jon stumbles in, yawning. He points at Brendon accusingly. "No peeking," he says. "Were you peeking?"

"I'm making sure your lazy ass paid up," Brendon says. "After the show you got last night, I think I deserve at least five bucks."

"Mmm," Jon says, and kisses him sleepily on the temple. "I liked it."

"I bet you did," Brendon says, but he kisses Jon back. Jon's kind of adorable in the morning. It's hard to stay mad at him, even if Brendon suspects there's a fur suit in his future.

Jon drinks half a cup of coffee, and then he reaches into the jar. "What do I do if I pick my own slip?" Jon wonders out loud.

"Put it back?" Brendon suggests, shrugging. "It's not like it ruins the surprise. I mean, you wrote it."

"Yeah," Jon says. He pulls out a piece of paper that's been neatly folded into a tiny square. "Well, I know this isn't mine," Jon says. He opens it up, shielding the handwriting from Brendon's view.

"What did you get?" Brendon says, even though that's against the rules. He's so curious.

"You'll find out later," Jon says.

"How much later?" Brendon says. He's considering adding in a mid-afternoon nap to his schedule, but he doesn't want to miss anything.

"Later," Jon says. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll know."

\---

Brendon plays Final Fantasy for a while, and then when he gets tired of that, he goes to find Ryan and bug him about chord progressions. They sit out on the back porch and tinker with melodies in the sunlight. Eventually they realize that Spencer's leaning out the kitchen window, tapping along on the windowsill. Jamming on the porch turns into jamming in the studio; by two pm, Brendon's kind of exhausted. He stumbles back to his room, falls face-first down on the bed, and sleeps for almost two hours.

When he wakes up, the light is starting to turn that late-afternoon shade of buttery yellow. Brendon blinks, and yawns, and adjusts himself, and somewhere in the middle of all that, he realizes he has to piss.

Brendon stumbles out into the hallway, heading for the downstairs bathroom. He passes by Spencer, who seems to be tied to the wooden stair railing.

"Hey," Brendon mumbles.

"Hi," Spencer says.

Brendon goes to the bathroom.

On the way back out, it finally connects. Brendon stops in the middle of the hallway.

"Wait, why are you tied to the railing?" Brendon says.

"Three guesses," Spencer says.

"Oh, right." Brendon says. Spencer's arms are slightly above his head, his hands wrapped around one of the balusters. if Brendon couldn't see the thin rope keeping him in place, it would look like Spencer was just kind of leaning there, you know, hanging out.

"That's a good one," Brendon says, approvingly. He kind of wishes he'd thought of it.

"I didn't actually write down 'bondage'," Spencer says. "Jon decided to get creative."

"Oh," Brendon says. "Can he do that?"

"Apparently," Spencer says.

"So, wait," Brendon says. "Is that it? You have to hang out there until he comes back? That's kind of lame, dude. I don't think that counts. What did you write?"

"He went to go get Ryan," Spencer says. "And stop trying to weasel it out of me."

"We're not playing charades," Brendon points out. He sits down cross-legged in the entranceway. "I don't get what the big deal is with the secrecy."

"Fine," Spencer sighs. He rolls his eyes. "I might have written down that someone could--get a little rough with me."

"And then Jon asked if he could tie you up, and you said yes," Brendon fills in. "Kinky."

"In the grand scheme of things," Spencer says. "No, not really." Brendon hears voices down at the other end of the hallway, and turns to see Ryan and Jon walking towards them. Ryan stops in front of Spencer, smiling widely, and opens his mouth.

"Ryan," Spencer says warningly, "If you are about to make a pun with any variation on the phrase 'hanging around,'--"

"I was going to ask if you were busy, or if you were all tied up at the moment," Ryan says.

Brendon groans.

"The only way I'm forgiving that is if someone takes my pants off," Spencer says.

"Oh really?" Jon says. He's smiling at Spencer, gentle and a little lopsided. "I think you need to learn some respect," Jon says mildly, and then he's holding Spencer's jaw, pushing his head up and back so that Spencer's trapped between him and the stairs. He bites at the base of Spencer's jaw, and Brendon watches with wide eyes as Spencer swallows and tugs against the restraints.

"Fuck yeah," Ryan says, and holds his hand out to Brendon for a high-five.

"Totally," Brendon says.

\---

"Please, please, fuck, Jon, _please_\--"

"Is he supposed to be begging?" Brendon stage whispers, leaning over Ryan's shoulder. He's got Ryan situated in between the cradle of his hips, mostly because Ryan seems to really want to grind back against something. Brendon's always willing to lend a hand, or a thigh, or whatever. He's friendly like that.

"I have no idea," Ryan whispers back. "Can I borrow this?" He links his fingers with Brendon's, and then drags both of their hands down into his underwear.

"Yes," Brendon says, and wraps his fingers around Ryan's cock. He rubs under the head, just like Ryan likes, and watches as Jon digs his fingers into Spencer's hips. He's on his knees in front of Spencer, sucking lightly on the head of his dick; Brendon can see the long trails of scratch-marks running down the pale skin of Spencer's thighs.

"This is the best idea you've ever had," Brendon says fervently. "Better than the wolf musical, even."

"Way better than the wolf musical," Ryan agrees, and thrusts up into the tight circle of Brendon's fist.

\---

Brendon checks the scoreboard the next morning. They're all even, although he suspects that's going to change soon. He refuses to believe that barebacking and rough sex are the only things this band full of perverts can come up with.

Spencer stumbles in while Jon and Brendon are finishing up breakfast, and pulls the last plate of pancakes towards him. "Aww, you saved me some," he says.

"Those are Ryan's," Jon says. "He's peeing."

"Same thing," Spencer says, and eats half of them before Ryan gets back. Ryan jabs at him with his fork, like an angry mother lion defending her cubs. "Not okay," Ryan says. "Not okay, Spencer."

"What are you, fifteen?" Spencer says. "You'll get over it." He yawns as he pushes the plate back towards Ryan. "Who's up today?"

"You are," Jon calls over his shoulder. "Feeling lucky?"

"Does it matter?" Spencer says. "I'm going to _get_ lucky either way." He crosses the small kitchen and pops the lid on the top of the jar, digging around with one hand. He pulls a slip out, reads it, and then says, "Huh."

"Do we need to call Pete?" Brendon says. "How long does it take to ship a fur suit, anyway?"

"We don't need to call Pete," Spencer says.

"I'm so totally filming this," Jon says.

"I _said_, we don't need to call Pete," Spencer says. "Unless there's something Brendon's not telling me."

"Oh, I--no." Brendon says. "Nothing." He can feel his face heating. Somehow, he'd forgotten that he'd put his own slips into the jar, slips that weren't intended to knock anyone out. Slips that actually contained things he wanted to try, but had never gotten up the balls to ask for. He wonders which one Spencer pulled.

"Anyway," Spencer says. "I was thinking, we're running low on beer and things. We should probably go to the supermarket."

"Gummi bears," Ryan says.

"Yes," Spencer says. "What?"

"I'm just saying," Ryan says. "You should get some. If you're going."

"You know, for a lyricist, you're really shitty at talking," Spencer says. "Anything else?"

"Ummmmm," Jon says, peering into the cupboards. "We need more Doritos."

"Yeah, because Spencer ate them all while I was getting fucked in the ass," Brendon says.

"And it was wonderful," Spencer says, as he's tugging his sweatshirt on.

"Which part," Brendon says. "The Doritos, or the--"

"Guess," Spencer says dryly. "Anyway. Brendon, put some shoes on, we're going."

"Wait, why am I coming?" Brendon says.

"Because you are," Spencer says. "Chop chop, my friend."

\---

Brendon knows he can be a little spacey sometimes. He's not as bad as Ryan, but he's aware that occasionally he puts two and two together and comes up with five.

Normally, he would blame it on the weed, but it's 10:30 in the morning. He really has no excuse for not realizing what was going on.

"Sorry," Spencer mumbles into his mouth, pushing him back against the door of the stall. "This is as public as it's getting. I'm not getting arrested."

"Okay," Brendon mumbles back. It's really surreal. They're in a _supermarket_. Brendon is about to have sex in a men's room at a _supermarket_.

"Was this a fake one?" Spencer says, pulling back for a minute to breathe. His hand is resting on Brendon's belt. "Or a real one?"

"Uh," Brendon says. He definitely hadn't been kidding when he wrote _sex in public_ down on his slip, but he'd been thinking maybe someplace a little more...classy. Or hell, maybe less classy, even. In Brendon's head it was either some fancy restaurant or a dirty gas-station bathroom, not a suburban, family-friendly shopping establishment.

It's still kind of hot, though.

"A little of column A, a little of column B," Brendon says. "Why?"

"No reason," Spencer says, and shoves until Brendon's on his knees. Brendon blinks, and then he looks up at Spencer. Spencer's raising one eyebrow, giving Brendon a calculating look. Brendon's suddenly, unequivocally grateful. Spencer can be surprisingly observant when he wants to be.

Brendon presses the heel of his hand against his jeans and then leans in, nuzzling at Spencer's crotch. "Thought so," Spencer says softly. "You want me to--?" He puts his hand on the back of Brendon's head, cupping the base of Brendon's skull. Brendon leans into the touch. Fuck yeah, he wants to.

Spencer's more gentle with him than he usually is, which Brendon appreciates. The tile floor is hard on his knees, and it's a small, cramped space. Brendon closes his eyes and relaxes into the feeling of Spencer's hands cradling his head as he slowly, carefully, fucks Brendon's mouth. He thinks Spencer's starting to get close when there's a flash of white behind his eyelids, and the telltale _click!_ of the phone on Spencer's camera.

"The fuck?" Brendon tries to say, but his mouth is full.

"Proof," Spencer says, and groans, tipping his head back. "Jesus _Christ_, Brendon, that feels good."

Brendon pulls off. "I can't believe you just took a picture of that," he says.

"Do you want to lose?" Spencer says. "Because I don't."

"I'm taking a picture of you after," Brendon promises darkly, and then goes back to blowing Spencer.

"As many as you want," Spencer moans, "Oh my god, whatever you just did, do that again--"

\---

"I'm making this my new phone background," Brendon says. He raises an eyebrow at the top of Spencer's head. "I'm calling it, Portrait of a Young Man in the Vegetable Aisle."

"I hate you," Spencer mumbles, around Brendon's dick.

"Wait, can I come on your face?" Brendon says. "Come on. Please? I promise not to take a picture, even."

"No," Spencer says.

"But--"

"No," Spencer says.

\---

"Guys," Brendon says. "Seriously. Get out of the way. You're going to make me lose. Go do that someplace else." He leans around to the side, trying to see over Jon's head and frantically mashing keys.

"He can't," Ryan says, on his back in the middle of the living room. He's got his hands pillowed behind his head. "This is for the bet."

"The hell?" Spencer says, wandering in. He's got a beer in one hand, and he looks like he just woke up. "How is that for the bet? I mean, I know Ryan has a big dick, but--"

"Yeah," Brendon agrees. "No one gives _me_ five bucks after I blow Ryan."

"It's not the blowjob," Ryan says irritably, tilting his head back so he can glare at Spencer. "I get to come on his face. And shut the hell up, you're ruining the vibe."

"I'm jealous," Brendon says. "Spencer wouldn't let me come on his face."

"We were in a _supermarket_," Spencer says. "What, you want me to go food shopping like that?" On top of Ryan, Jon starts snickering. Ryan arches, his mouth falling open at the new sensation.

"Shit, don't come yet," Brendon mutters. "Let me get to a save point, at least."

"This doesn't get to happen on your schedule," Ryan chokes out. "I'm not planning my orgasms around your video games. Jon, shit, pull off, oh god--"

"God_dammit_," Brendon says. He dies anyway, because he's too busy watching Ryan come on Jon's face. Jon closes his eyes when Ryan does it, tilting his face up and breathing heavily through his nose. Afterwards, Ryan surges forward and tugs on Jon's hair. Ryan frames Jon's face with his long fingers, kissing him desperately. Jon whimpers a little into Ryan's mouth.

Behind them, Spencer golf-claps.

"Congratulations," he says, taking a long drag of his beer. "Have fun getting that shit out of your beard, man."

\---

"Round two," Jon says, with unmitigated glee as he cracks his knuckles. "You're all going down."

"Say the man who--never mind," Spencer says. He's staring at the grill on the back patio, a metal spatula in one hand. The air smells like hamburgers. "I can't figure out the temperature on this thing," Spencer says. "I don't want to burn these."

"I kind of like them burnt," Ryan puts in, from the deck chair in the corner. He's resting his guitar on his stomach, occasionally picking at the strings. "It's okay. I'll take the first two."

"Mmm," Spencer says. He pokes at one of the patties with his spatula. There's a loud sound of sizzling, and the sudden _hiss_ of grease dropping down into the charcoal.

"It's a good thing you know how to grill," Brendon says. "Otherwise we'd be really hungry."

"I know how to grill," Jon puts in. "Kind of."

"You know how to burn things," Spencer says. "That's not the same thing."

"Right now it is," Jon says. He points to Ryan's slightly blackened hamburgers, and Spencer swears, flipping them off the grill and on to a plate.

"Anyway," Ryan mumbles, once he's devoured an entire cheeseburger in under five seconds and is leisurely starting on his second one. "Brendon. It's your turn. Go pick something."

"I'm comfortable," Brendon says. He doesn't really want to move. Seriously, these deck chairs are amazing.

Brendon closes his eyes and dozes for a while; he can hear the sounds of his friends moving around him, scattered conversations drifting through his consciousness and back out again. He wakes up when he feels something cold and heavy land on his stomach.

"Ooof," Brendon says, and opens his eyes. The jar is lying on his stomach, and Brendon reaches down to pop the top open.

He pulls a slip out, and then he stares at it for a while.

"Uh," Brendon says.

"What?" Jon says. "Are you backing out? Did I just increase my net worth?"

"I have no idea what this means," Brendon says, blushing a little. "Like, seriously. I have never even heard of this, what the hell."

"Who wrote it?" Ryan says, perking up.

"Spencer," Brendon says. He looks over at Spencer. He's turning the grill off, pulling the last few hamburgers off the flame and trying really hard not to laugh.

"The internet is your friend," Spencer says solemnly. "But if you're afraid, you can back out now. I'll survive."

"Can I look it up first?" Brendon says.

"No," Jon says.

"Yes," Ryan says.

Brendon frowns.

"You can look it up," Spencer says, snickering. "But only if I'm there to watch your face when you admit defeat."

"I don't--okay." Brendon says. "But, like--you know there's no water around here, right? No lakes or anything?"

Ryan spits out his drink.

Jon eventually has to pound him on the back because he's laughing so hard, and he still won't tell Brendon what's so funny.

\---

Brendon watches the video, with Spencer cackling behind him the whole time. When it's over, he closes the window and turns to Spencer and says, "Oh, fuck you."

"Yes!" Spencer says. "_Yes_. I knew I would knock someone out with that one."

Brendon looks at him for a second. He thinks about how much he really doesn't want to lose; at some point, he realizes, he's become really invested in this.

Also, he's been on tour with Pete Wentz.

"Okay," Brendon says. "I'll do it."

"What?" Spencer says, his laughter dying away. "But--"

"I'll do it," Brendon says.

"It was a joke," Spencer says, his eyes widening. "I was kidding, I didn't think anyone would really--"

"Come on," Brendon says. "Let's go. Right now. We'll do this in the bathtub."

"I, uh." Spencer says. "You're actually serious?"

"Yup," Brendon says. He's kind of enjoying this. Whatever. He can just take a shower later. It won't be the worst thing that's ever happened to him. "Not on my face, though."

Spencer turns a little green. He swallows.

"I'm going to go get naked," Brendon says. "Take your time. Drink some water."

Spencer makes a horrified noise.

"You can back out, you know," Brendon says, grinning. "No one's forcing you to do it."

"Uh-huh," Spencer says weakly.

\---

Brendon would never have pegged Spencer for someone with performance anxiety, but there you go. Learn something new all the time, right?

"Dude, you piss in front of people all the time," Brendon says. "Just relax." He leans back against the lip of the tub, smirking.

"It's not the same," Spencer says. "They're not _watching me do it_. It's weird."

"I can't believe I'm coaxing you into this," Brendon says. "Okay. Spencer. I am giving you five more minutes and then I am officially declaring your forfeit. I hope I never, ever have to say this again, but man the fuck up and piss on me."

"Oh my god," Spencer groans. He's blushing furiously. "This is so weird."

"I can ask nicely," Brendon says. "Do you need me to say please?"

"No," Spencer says. "No, I'm, I'll be fine, I just--shut up for a little while, okay?"

"Sure," Brendon says. He stretches out, cracking his back with a sigh. He hasn't seen Jon or Ryan yet; he wonders if they're planning on checking, or if this is too weird, even for them.

"Okay," Spencer says. "Okay." He looks like he's trying to psych himself up. Brendon can't help snickering. "Would this be easier if I was distracting you?" Brendon says. "We can make out."

"I have no idea," Spencer says. He's literally bright red. Brendon's starting to feel sorry for the guy.

"C'mere," Brendon says. He pulls Spencer in so that he's lying on top of him. "Chill out, okay? If you're really going to freak out about it--"

"I'm not freaking out," Spencer says tightly. Brendon leans up to kiss him anyway, twining his arms around Spencer's neck. Spencer still has one hand around his dick, like he's checking to make sure it isn't going to do anything without his express permission.

Spencer kisses him back, hot and a little desperate. Brendon raises an eyebrow at him, and then Spencer's groaning, pressing his face into Brendon's shoulder. Brendon's confused for a second, until he feels a hot rush of liquid over his stomach. He can feel his mouth dropping open, because that's not supposed to be hot, right? He's not supposed to be getting turned on.

"Fuck," Spencer mumbles. "Oh my god, Brendon--"

"Whoa," Brendon says. He rolls his hips up experimentally, just as Spencer lets loose with another stream, warm and wet and almost directly on his dick. Spencer's cock is nestled directly up against his own. He's half-hard.

Spencer whimpers.

"Keep going," Brendon says. His voice comes out a little throaty.

He can't believe he's getting into this. Spencer is _peeing on him_, for fuck's sake. Brendon feels filthy for even considering it, and then Spencer is grabbing at his hips with both hands, pressing Brendon in closer as he really starts to go.

Brendon moans at the new sensation--god, he's so _wet_\--and bites at Spencer's shoulder and gasps out, "We're never talking about this again, right?"

"Never," Spencer agrees. "Never, ever."

"Okay," Brendon says, and then reaches down to fist them both. "In that case--"

"_Yes_," Spencer gasps out. "Brendon, come on, please--"

Ryan choose that moment to tug the curtain back.

"What are you--oh my God," he says, staring. "Are you seriously--?"

"Go away," Spencer says, and tugs the curtain back into place. "You saw nothing. Brendon, fuck--"

"I'm leaving now," Ryan says.

"Uh-huh," Brendon says.

"Perverts," Ryan adds, after a moment.

"Uh-huh," Spencer says weakly. He punctuates his sentence with a long, drawn out moan.

\---

They take a break for a few days, because, as Ryan points out, they do actually have to get work done at some point.

They're out here to make music, not just to goad each other into weird sexual situations.

(Theoretically.)

\---

So Jon doesn't pick until the next Thursday, at which point he tilts his head to the side and says. "Huh. Wow."

"Fur suit?" Spencer says.

"I didn't actually write that down, you know," Jon says. "So no. No fur suits."

"Depersonalization?" Ryan says.

"What the hell?" Spencer says. "You always know about the weirdest shit. That sounds terrifying."

"No, it's," Ryan says, and gestures at his crossword. "I think the answer to this clue is 'depersonalization.' But I'm not sure."

"Depersonalization is when you make someone into your furniture," Brendon says. He's got his laptop open on his lap. After the events of last week---which he's never talking about again, thanks---he's determined not to be caught unawares. He really hopes no one checks his browser history.

"I knew that," Jon says.

"How is that hot?" Spencer says. "That's not hot. I mean, it sounds kind of fun, but it's not hot."

"Naked, sexy furniture," Brendon says. "I mean. I can kind of see it." He turns the laptop screen around, so Spencer can see the image he's pulled up from Google.

"Huh," Spencer says. He stares at it for a minute, and then shakes his head. "Anyway. Jon. You still in?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," Jon says. "This one's no big deal. Totally still in."

\---

Brendon isn't stupid. He knows what's coming, because Jon had smiled at him across the table, all lazy and catlike and Brendon had thought _oh, shit_.

Which is kind of where he is now, honestly.

"Get on the bed," Jon says. He looks entirely too pleased with himself.

"We don't have to," Brendon says. "I mean, really. If you're just doing this for the bet--"

"I can't believe no one's ever done this to you," Jon says. "On the bed, Brendon."

Brendon swallows.

He shuts up and gets on the bed.

"Relax," Jon says. "It's not a big deal."

"I think it's a big deal," Brendon says, before he can stop himself. "You're just going to--"

"Yes," Jon says. "Yes, I am."

\---

"Oh," Brendon says softly.

There's not really much more he can say. It's just a gigantic OH, filling up his chest, making his vision bleed a little at the edges. Jon spreads him wider, his hands gentle on Brendon's skin. Brendon tries not to lean back into the touch.

"You look good like this," Jon says. He's pointing his tongue a little, and Brendon can feel the way it changes the pressure, the angle. His thighs are starting to lock up.

"_Oh_," Brendon says, again. He wants more, everything. He wants Jon to never, ever stop doing this. Jon presses two fingers in and curls his tongue around Brendon's rim, and Brendon keens. He feels beautiful and filthy, all at once, and Jon just keeps _going_.

Jon pulls his fingers out. He comes back with three and whispers, "Come on, baby, open up for me--"

Brendon pants into the mattress, his face flaming. It's not _fair_. Jon should not be allowed to use his dirty mouth when he's doing something like this to Brendon. Brendon is not going to be responsible for anything that happens when Jon is talking to him like that.

Across the room, Ryan's mouth is hanging open. "Wow," he says, a little unsteadily.

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. He clears his throat. "Uh."

Ryan turns to Spencer. "Uh," Ryan says. "Um, did you want to, maybe--"

"Okay," Spencer says. He's still staring at the bed, at the arched line of Brendon's back as he cries out under Jon's mouth. "I would be okay with that."

"Good," Ryan says, too quickly. "Maybe we could go and--"

"Sure," Spencer says, blushing furiously. They make a quick, hurried escape. Brendon hears the sound of the bedroom door slamming.

Jon bites at the curve of Brendon's ass. Brendon can feel him smiling against his skin.

\---

Brendon wakes up naked in Jon's bed the next morning. Jon himself is wrapped around him, one hand resting on flat the of Brendon's stomach. It's kind of nice.

Brendon yawns, and thinks about shifting Jon's hand a little lower. It's already _right there_. It seems a shame to waste it.

"Hey," Jon mumbles. He rubs his beard into the dip between Brendon's shoulder blades.

"Hey," Brendon says. "You busy?"

"Did you want me to be?" Jon says, while yawning. The words come out crackled.

"You know what they say about idle hands," Brendon says. "The devil, and all that."

"Oh, right," Jon says. "Obviously." Behind the wall, there's a loud thump and then a yell, as though someone had gracelessly slid to the floor. Or rather, as though Ryan Ross had gracelessly slid to the floor.

"Do you think--" Brendon says, and then cuts off at the sound of Spencer's laugh. It's slightly hysterical.

"I hope they actually slept," Jon mumbles. "We have shit to do today."

"Who's picking?"

"Spencer," Jon says.

"Oh, this should be good," Brendon says.

\---

Spencer pulls out his slip and says, "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Well, I know it's not mine," Brendon says, kicking his heels up on the table. He's golden. He's passed every challenge and he's still in the game and now all that's left is to watch the rest of his band drop like flies. His coffee tastes like victory.

"Whose is it?" Jon says. He's giving Spencer a weird once-over that makes Brendon stop and pause.

Spencer opens and closes his mouth a few times, like a fish that's just beginning to suffocate. "Ryan," he says finally.

"Oh," Jon says. He sounds mildly disappointed.

"Wait," Brendon says. "Wait, you're not supposed to tell us. Isn't that one of the rules?"

"There's only one slip left," Spencer points out. "You'd know it was Jon's by tonight anyway."

"I should declare you forfeit," Brendon says. "That's totally cheating."

"You might not have to," Spencer says. "I really don't know if I can do this."

"Wait," Jon says. "Wait, where did Ryan go?"

\---

"You weren't supposed to draw that," Ryan hisses. His arms are crossed against his chest; his mouth is scrunched up in a moue of annoyance. "Now we're both going to lose."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it," Spencer says weakly. "I just--"

"Oh, I know," Ryan says. "Believe me, I know. You're not my first choice."

"Oh, thanks," Spencer says. "Way to lower my self-esteem, asshole."

"You know what I mean," Ryan says. "You don't want to do it, either. We're going to have to forfeit."

"It's not that I don't want to--" Spencer starts, and then snaps his mouth shut.

"But it's because you don't want to," Ryan fills in. "You're like, the least subtle person I've ever met."

"This is a real one, isn't it?" Spencer says suddenly.

"What do you think?" Ryan's raising an eyebrow at him, his face perfectly blank.

"Oh snap," Jon says, from the corner.

"Burrrn," Brendon agrees. He frowns down at his guitar hero controller. The blue key is sticking again.

"Shit," Spencer whispers under his breath. He leans over and tugs on Ryan's arm. "Ryan and I, we're going to--we'll be back," Spencer says, tugging him out of the room. "We need to chat."

"Mmm," Jon says. "Brendon, Silverchair next? or Journey?"

\---

"If any of you laugh," Ryan says grimly, "I'm cutting your balls off."

"I won't laugh," Jon says earnestly. "Promise."

"I might," Brendon says.

"No, you won't," Spencer says, and glares at him. Brendon has no idea what went on when the two of them stepped out of the room, but they seem to be a united front once more. Brendon wonders what could possibly be so horrifying, and then Spencer draws his hand back and smacks Ryan hard on the ass.

"Oh, wow," Brendon says. "Really?" He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head a little.

"One," Ryan mutters into the pillow.

Brendon opens his mouth to ask Ryan what it feels like, if he's actually enjoying it, and then he feels Jon's fingers across his mouth. "Mmmph," he says instead, and turns to look at Jon.

"Just watch," Jon says quietly. "Okay? Let them do their thing."

Brendon thinks about it for a moment, and then he shrugs. He can do that, if that's what Jon and Spencer and Ryan want. He's not actually an asshole. Most of the time.

"Three," Ryan says. His voice is a little breathy. Spencer pauses for a minute, taking hold of Ryan's hips and shifting him farther back, pushing so that Ryan's ass is arched up higher into the air.

Brendon stays quiet, breathing through Jon's fingers as he watches. After ten, Ryan's ass is starting to turn pink; after twenty five, the skin is bright red. It looks like it might be hot to the touch. Brendon distantly realizes he's hard. He licks at Jon's fingers a little, and Jon slowly draws his hand away.

"Twenty-seven," Ryan says, and his voice breaks on the last syllable. Spencer runs his palm over the curve of Ryan's ass, digging his fingernails into the skin. Ryan jerks under his hands. He gasps out a word that almost sounds like please.

"More?" Spencer says quietly, and Brendon's answering for Ryan before he can stop himself. "Yes," Brendon says. "More."

"That's not up to you," Spencer says.

Ryan shudders. "Brendon," he chokes out. "Tell him when to stop."

"Are you sure?" Spencer says, and drags his fingernails over Ryan's skin.

"Yes," Ryan bites out. He presses his face into his forearm, hiding his blush. "It's up to him."

Brendon swallows.

"Okay," he says, a little unsteadily. "Keep going."

\---

Ryan falls asleep, after, his limbs draped over the couch like a recalcitrant starfish. Brendon watches as Spencer gathers him up carefully, tucking him into his chest.

"Is he going to be--okay?" Brendon whispers. They'd stopped at forty-five. Brendon had been afraid to go any higher.

"He'll be okay," Spencer says. Against him, Ryan mumbles in his sleep, shifting a little to get more comfortable.

"Brendon," Jon says softly, calling to him from the other couch. "C'mere."

"Yeah, okay," Brendon says. Jon opens up his arms, and Brendon tucks himself into Jon's edges. "Do you think--" Brendon says, and then stops. He doesn't know what the hell he was about to say.

"Sleep," Jon mumbles. "Spence will take care of him, Brendon. He'll be okay."

\---

Brendon doesn't realize something's off until later the next night, when he's falling asleep on the couch to the melodic sounds of the Jon and Ryan stoner extravaganza.

"Hey, wait," Brendon mumbles into the couch cushions. "Wasn't someone supposed to pick today?" Across the room, Jon hits a C minor for added emphasis.

"I did," Ryan says. "But it's...complicated." He shifts a little on his throw pillow. He's been sitting on one all day, placing it on his seat with darting eyes as though he expects to be hounded. No one has brought it up in conversation even once.

"He had to order something off the internet," Spencer says, from somewhere in the vicinity of Brendon's feet.

"_Spencer_," Ryan says flatly, managing to convey all of his disappointment in two syllables.

"If you didn't want me to see it, you should have closed your email," Spencer replies. "Besides, I don't know what it was. All I know is that it's going to be here within 2-4 business days."

"Oooh, sex toys," Brendon says, rolling over to face them. He is also--perhaps--a little high. "What is it? Is it a cock ring?"

"What? No." Ryan says. "I'm not going to tell you."

"Does it vibrate?" Brendon says.

"No," Ryan says. "And this isn't twenty questions."

"You're such a buzzkill," Brendon says. "Whatever. I'm sure Jon will be quivering in antici--"

"Oh, shut up," Ryan says.

\---

Ryan has to drive all the way into town to get the box. He brings it back and refuses to show anyone what's inside. Brendon is horribly curious. He's trying not to think about it, but he's pretty sure the waiting might _actually_ kill him.

"Stop being such a drama queen," Spencer says. "No one cares about your pain."

Brendon thinks about it for a minute, and then has to admit Spencer's right.

"Low blow," he says, whistling through his teeth. "Mario Kart while we wait?"

"Totally," Spencer says, and tosses him the second controller.

\---

Ryan's voice filters loud and clear through the closed door. "I would tell you not to laugh," he says dryly, "but I think I would be pushing my luck."

"I can gag them," Jon calls back pleasantly. "If it will make you feel better."

Ryan doesn't answer; he just pushes open the door, like he's preparing to march to his own funeral.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Brendon is completely speechless.

Some part of him distantly realizes that it's a very _Ryan_ thing to do, to go all out when really, a skirt would have been just fine. Brendon swallows; he starts at Ryan's feet and moves his gaze slowly upwards. By the time he reaches Ryan's face, he's no longer sure he's actually breathing.

Everything is pale, delicate, cream-colored lace; Brendon suspects it's all vintage. Ryan's legs are long and smooth, his feet pointed slightly inward. Brendon can just barely see a seam on the back of the stockings where the silk has twisted slightly.

Brendon raises his eyes. He half-expects to see a corset but instead it's a thin slip, barely covering the tops of Ryan's thighs. It's absurdly flattering. The top of it is cut straight across and somehow instead of looking boxy, it just makes Ryan look waifish. His hair is tucked behind his ears, curling slightly. He's wearing makeup.

"Jesus _Christ_," Spencer says. Brendon nods. He's still working up to speech. He's pretty sure that sometime tomorrow he'll be able to form sentences again.

"Hey gorgeous," Jon says, smiling like the cat who got the cream. He gives Ryan an extremely obvious once-over. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Oh, shut up," Ryan says, rolling his eyes and hiding a smile. "You're not as charming as you think you are."

"Mmm," Jon says, still smiling. He pats the top of his right knee a little. "I think you should come sit over here."

"Really," Ryan says, eyeing Jon's lap with one eyebrow raised. "You think so, huh?"

"There's room on the couch," Spencer blurts out. "If, you know. You wanted to sit here instead."

"Yeah," Brendon croaks out. "Lots of room."

Jon frowns at them. "Stop trying to steal Ryan."

"Yeah, Spencer," Ryan says drawls. "Stop trying to steal me. Obviously, I'm dressed up like this entirely to fulfill Jon's weirdo fantasies."

"Wait," Brendon says. "Wait, you--"

"Occasionally," Ryan says, shrugging. He crosses the room, perching himself carefully on Jon's knee. Jon leans in, nosing along the side of Ryan's throat, one steadying hand on the small of his back to keep him from falling. Ryan tilts his head back and breathes out, "Not a lot."

"Oh," Brendon says. He doesn't know why he's surprised. This is not the kind of earth-shaking revelation that it would be coming from someone like, oh, Zack.

Spencer, on the other hand, seems completely astonished. "I never," Spencer manages. "_You_ never--Fuck, Ryan."

"You never asked," Ryan says, shrugging. Both of his long legs are draped on either side of Jon's right leg. Ryan's slip has a tiny slit on the side; the fabric is parting at the top of his thighs. God, his skin looks so smooth. Brendon's fingers itch to touch it.

"Look," Spencer says, suddenly. "Look, Jon, I'm really sorry, but I--" He pushes himself off the couch and crosses the room in three strides, stopping just behind Ryan's back with one hand slightly outstretched.

Brendon watches, holding his breath as Spencer's hand makes contact. Spencer slides his hand down the expanse of Ryan's silk-covered back, swallowing firmly. Ryan arches into the touch as much as he can; Jon's sucking a bruise into his collarbone, one hand playing with the clasp of his garters.

"Why, Spencer," Ryan gets out, trying for flippant and mostly just sounding breathless. "I never knew you cared."

"I care," Brendon says, just in case anyone's listening.

"I think we should move this into the bedroom," Jon says, cupping his hands around Ryan's hips. "I don't want to ruin your stockings."

"It's okay," Ryan murmurs, tilting his head back for a kiss from Spencer. "I don't mind if they get ruined."

\---

Ryan is wearing panties.

Actual, honest-to-god fucking _panties_. Brendon is pretty sure that any moment now, he's just going to keel over from sheer hormonal overload. It's going to be messy.

Brendon runs his hand over the delicate lace, and Ryan arches up into his touch. "You look--so pretty," Brendon whispers. It feels entirely inadequate. Ryan like this is someone strange and new and different, even as he's biting back the same gasps and breathing out the same sighs.

"Gorgeous," Jon agrees, from somewhere underneath Ryan. There's no rhyme or reason to this, just all of them in an unwieldy pile, Ryan in the middle.

"I think," Ryan bites out, and then has to stop for a moment because Jon is tucking his fingers inside the tops of Ryan's stockings. "You could all--I mean. If you wanted to."

"Yes," Brendon says. "Yes, yes, yes, please--"

"Whatever you want," Spencer says gently, lying on his side. He seems to be content with waiting his turn, watching Ryan with wide eyes and bitten lips.

"I want," Ryan says. He ducks his head down, hiding his blush. Brendon runs his tongue down the long line of Ryan's spine. Ryan squirms under his hands.

"Please," Ryan says faintly.

"Shhh," Jon says, one hand curved around the back of Ryan's neck. Ryan nuzzles into the touch. "Whatever you want, Ry, I promise. Who first?"

"You," Ryan says. " and then Brendon, and then Spencer, please--"

\---

Brendon wakes up with one of Ryan's stockings draped across his side. He thinks about it for a second, and then very carefully tucks it under the pillow. He wonders if Ryan will notice if he saves it.

"Mmmph," Ryan mumbles, nuzzling into Brendon's side. "I saw that."

"I'll buy you more," Brendon says. Next to him, Spencer is skimming his toes over the smooth skin on Ryan's legs.

"Morning, gorgeous," Jon says, wrapped around Ryan from the other side. "You want breakfast?"

"Mmm," Ryan says. "Breakfast."

"Wait," Brendon says. "Wait, who won?"

"I think we all did," Spencer yawns. "Jon, pancakes?"

\---

They divide the money up after breakfast.

The jar sits on the kitchen table for two weeks, conspicuously empty.

Brendon tries not to think about it.

\---

Brendon stumbles into the kitchen one morning, yawning large enough that it feels like his jaw might crack. _Coffee_, he thinks blearily, and then he sees the tiny slip of paper in the bottom of the jar.

He crosses the room carefully, like he's cornering a wild animal. When he pulls it out, the slip of paper is folded into thirds. Brendon smooths it out carefully, and reads, _I want to tie you up and make you beg for it._

"Hey," Jon says casually, from somewhere behind him. "You busy?"

Brendon smiles to himself, all thoughts of coffee forgotten. He shakes his head. "Not anymore."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] All In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/722900) by [greedy_dancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedy_dancer/pseuds/greedy_dancer)




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